The babble of conversation nearly drowned out the lively music playing in the corner of the large ballroom as the glittering guests swayed past.
“Smile, Roma. This is a party.”
Slightly turning, Roma Allendyle favored her handsome young cousin with a condemning glare.
“That’s easy for you to say, Claude. As a male you are free from the constant surveillance of those malicious tabbies in the corner. I am quite certain that they are impatiently awaiting for some excuse to rip me to shreds.”
Claude Welford gave an appreciative chuckle at the frustrated edge in the young woman’s voice. He easily remembered his first season in London and his terror of the grim dowagers. No doubt it was even more terrifying for Roma. Not only did she possess far more spirit than was proper for a young lady, but she had been raised in a haphazard style by her eccentric father. More often than not the Colonel forgot Roma was a young lady, treating her much the same as his oldest son, William. Now that she was being abruptly thrust into Polite Society, she must feel overtly aware of her lack of feminine polish.
“Ignore them,” he commanded softly, drawing her slightly away from the large crowd filling the ballroom. “You are doing splendidly. I have overheard more than one old matron telling Mama how becoming they found your manners. I swear I nearly burst out laughing when one babbled on about your sweet nature and modest demeanor. I wondered what she would think if she could see you in your breeches, striding around Greystead Manor like a tyrant and frightening the poor estate manager with your riding whip.”
The hazel eyes that Roma had kept properly subdued with stern determination abruptly flared to life.
“That poor estate manager was attempting to rob me blind, and with Father dead and William missing, I didn’t have much choice but to take charge of the estate. Something impossible to do when everyone used my skirts as an excuse to ignore my every order.”
“Don’t fly into a pet, Roma.” Claude flashed her an engaging grin, appearing boyishly handsome with his golden blond hair and elegant attire. Although not a dandy, he took inordinate pride in his Weston-tailored coat and elaborately arranged cravat. “You have my full respect for the way you have managed to keep Greystead on its feet. And I also appreciate the sacrifice you made in allowing Mama to drag you to London for your introduction to Society. I know quite well how much you detest behaving like a proper lady.”
Roma attempted to send the taunting man a censorious glare, but the amused sparkle in his brown eyes was her undoing, and with a rueful sigh she glanced around the brightly lit room with its lavish decor and noble assembly. She knew most women at the advanced age of three and twenty would be overjoyed at making a long overdue entrance into the London ton. But while she did find many of the various entertainments diverting, she longed for the unrestricted freedom of her home. Only there could she feel truly comfortable and able to concentrate on matters far more interesting than the latest fashion or who had flirted with whom at the previous assembly.
Still, she had come to London with a purpose. It had been nearly three weeks since William had left Greystead on a covert mission for the government, and impatient with her futile attempts to discover his whereabouts locally, she had reluctantly given in to her aunt’s insistent urging that she come to town—with the sole purpose of continuing her investigation. Now that she was here, however, she found herself uncertain about how to proceed. It wasn’t as if she could simply begin asking each person she encountered if he or she knew where her brother might be. She had to somehow discover a means of being introduced to the few men who might have information.
“I will own that it has been difficult,” she said softly. “In the week since we arrived I haven’t had a moment’s peace. Your mother has induced me to attend a dozen different gatherings, not to mention the visitations, the rides in the park and being outfitted with a completely new wardrobe.”
“Yes, I applaud her efforts.” With a languid movement designed to set his cousin’s teeth on edge, Claude raised his quizzing glass to his eyes and slowly inspected her simple silk gown in a frothy sea green with jade ribbons that matched the velvet band in her vivid auburn curls. “You look quite different without your breeches, almost passable, in fact. But how did you manage to explain that bullet hole in your shoulder you are taking such pains to hide?”
Roma blushed. The wound, although nearly healed, was still shockingly red, and it had taken the modiste’s considerable imagination to create gowns that satisfied the current fashion while hiding the disfiguring mark.
“I said that I had taken a fall while attempting to clear a hedge.”
Claude gave a short burst of laughter. “Lord, that must have scratched at your pride. Everyone knows you have the best seat in the country. My mother must have windmills in her head to swallow such a Banbury tale.”
“Please, Claude, I would rather not discuss that night,” she said in a low tone. “It is something I am trying to forget.”
“You never did tell me what happened to you.” He tilted his head slightly. “All I know is that we were separated when those men attacked, and I spent one devil of a night waiting for you to return to Greystead.”
She shivered slightly, unable to prevent the haunting image of a dark, aristocratic face and mocking blue eyes from rising to her mind. It was ludicrous that his potently handsome features should have troubled her during the last fortnight. He was just a man who had briefly passed in and out of her life, she told herself sternly. And if she hadn’t met him under such traumatic circumstances, she doubted that she would have even taken note of him.
“Because there is nothing to tell,” she forced herself to answer her cousin’s subtle probing with a light tone. “Now why don’t you go and flutter the hearts of the numerous young women who keep casting their lures in your direction? I wouldn’t want to be accused of monopolizing one of England’s most eligible bachelors.”
Claude pulled a comical face. “I am not nearly deep enough in the pocket for that particular title. From all reports Lord Carlton is once more the season’s prime catch.”
“Carlton?” Roma wrinkled her brow. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
“Trust me, you would remember if you had. According to most of the fairer sex, he is quite irresistible, not to mention as rich as a nabob,” Claude informed her dryly.
Roma rolled her eyes. “You mean a shameless rake.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. He doesn’t trifle with innocents, or anything of that sort. Of course, it is only natural that a man in his position would enjoy a few … pleasures in the petticoat line.”
With a jaundiced eye, Roma watched her cousin blush. “Naturally.”
“Dash it, Roma, I am constantly forgetting you are a woman and that I shouldn’t talk of such things,” he muttered.
“As if any woman were so noodle witted as not to know of demireps,” she retorted in a chiding tone.
“Well … it is not proper.”
She gave a small shrug. “Why should I care if this Lord Carlton has a dozen mistresses? He sounds like an odious man.”
“Oh, no.” Claude gave a shake of his head. “I only met him on one occasion, but he was a likable chap. Had a certain presence, if you know what I mean. And I can only wish I could have his reputation as a sportsman. He is a first-class Corinthian.”
Thoroughly bored by Lord Carlton’s seemingly endless list of accomplishments, she allowed her gaze to roam toward the dance floor now filled with colorful guests, all fully enjoying the music.
“How much longer need we stay?” she asked, her tone weary.
“Stay? We just arrived.” Claude glanced at her in surprise. “Surely you would like to meet a few of the guests?”
Alerted to the odd edge in his voice, she abruptly returned her attention to the man at her side.
“Any guest in particular?” she asked in an ominous tone.
Thoroughly discomforted, Claude waved an embarrassed hand. “Just a few of my acquaintances.”
“Oh, Claude, not you too,” she cried, her expression annoyed. Claude was well aware that her presence in London had nothing to do with these devilishly dull parties or the various men dangled beneath her nose. It was bad enough to endure his mother’s kindly, but relentless matchmaking without him adding to her trials. “You know I abhor starched-up dandies beyond all things.”
Claude’s fair skin reddened. “I’ll have you know that my friends are not dandies, and if it wasn’t for their continual badgering, I would never have agreed to introducing them to you. As it is, I can not imagine why they are so insistent. Granted you are not a bad-looking woman, but the fashion is for blond hair and blue eyes.”
Roma’s burst of anger instantly evaporated into a chuckle at Claude’s sincere puzzlement. She, too, had been surprised by the attention she had attracted. As the daughter of a mere colonel with few female accomplishments to boast of, she had been quite prepared to find herself blithely ignored. But she hadn’t counted on her determined aunt, who had complacently spoken of the Colonel’s various acts of heroism, and of the Prince Regent’s accommodation of his sacrifice for his country, or the fact that her mother came from a decidedly noble lineage. And she certainly hadn’t counted on her unusually vivid coloring and deceptively frail form capturing the attention of men quite sated by the influx of insipid blond debutantes. Even her pointed lack of interest in their gallant attempts to engage her in light flirtations had only served to increase their pique. As a result she found herself in the uncomfortable position of being continually pursued, despite her best attempts to remain firmly in the shadows of the ton.
“Your compliments quite take my breath away, dear cousin.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Well, I am more accustomed to seeing you astride a horse, with your face smudged and your hair hanging in your eyes. It is difficult to see you as a fine lady.”
“Do not worry. I shall soon enough be back to my hoydenish ways,” she reassured him, the light in her eyes dulled. “At least I hope so. So far my journey has been nothing more than a shocking waste of time.”
Instantly sympathetic, Claude reached out a hand to lightly pat her forearm. “You must be patient, Roma. You can not hope—”
“Ah … Welford, isn’t it? So good to meet up with you again.”
Completely absorbed in their conversation, Claude and Roma gave a small start of surprise at the drawling voice interrupting their privacy. Strangely Roma felt a trickle of alarm inch down her spine as she reluctantly turned to regard the two men who were standing directly behind her.
A sharp stab of dismay held her spellbound as she abruptly realized her instinctive recognition of the smoky voice. It was a voice she had heard far too often in her dreams. A voice that she had fiercely prayed she would never hear again. Now it was only with the most considerable effort that she forced herself to meet the mocking blue gaze of her rescuer.
Beside her, she felt Claude stiffen as well, but his next words proved that he failed to recognize the men who had shared their desperate flight for survival.
“Ah, Lord Carlton, this is a surprise. I thought you gave this sort of affair a wide berth.”
Lord Carlton? Roma lifted her brows in silent surprise, recovering her shaken composure enough to notice the elegant knee breeches, the shimmering pale blue waistcoat and exquisitely molded coat. Every inch the refined gentleman, she acknowledged, remembering him in the muddy farmer’s garments he had chosen for their first encounter. Of course, even when he was unshaven and in rough clothing, she had never taken him for anything but a gentleman. His completely natural air of command and the hint of arrogance etched in his handsome features had easily given him away. But … Lord Carlton? Rake, Corinthian, darling of society? It seemed preposterous.
As if he sensed her disbelief, a raven brow slowly rose, his finely molded lips quirking into a disturbing smile.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making the young lady’s acquaintance, Welford.”
Completely rattled at being treated in such an intimate manner by the esteemed lord, Claude gave a nervous laugh.
“So sorry … My cousin, Miss Roma Allendyle. She is staying with my mother for the Season. Roma, may I present Lord Carlton and Mr. Howe?”
During the introduction, Roma took the opportunity to swiftly glance at the man standing next to Lord Carlton, instinctively sensing that the young, pleasant-faced fellow with the thatch of brown hair had also been on the beach that fateful night. She was certain, however, that he had no notion she had been involved. His glance was openly admiring, rather than filled with suspicion of a woman who would behave in such a reprehensible manner.
“Miss Allendyle, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?”
Unwillingly she returned her attention to the ravenhaired man who seemed to tower unnervingly over her slight frame.
“Unfortunately I am recovering from a chill, Lord Carlton,” she reeled off her well-practiced excuse. “My constitution is limited to merely watching the dancers.”
Normally she added a charming smile to take any sting from her refusal, but battling her acute embarrassment and the unexplainable antagonism she had felt the moment she had met his cynical gaze, Roma found herself unable to do more than send him a stubborn glare.
The wicked amusement in the startlingly blue eyes only deepened. “How distressing, Miss Allendyle. We must ensure that you do not overly tire yourself and chance a relapse. Perhaps, Jack, you should go with Welford to procure some lemonade while I find a comfortable seat.”
Caught off guard by his smooth manipulations, Roma could only blink in surprise. But clearly accustomed to his cousin’s swift commands, Mr. Howe instantly rushed to assist.
“What? Oh, certainly, lemonade is most refreshing.”
Grasping Claude’s arm, he easily led the bemused man away, and Roma found herself abandoned to Lord Carlton’s unwelcome company. Frowning, she turned to meet his narrowed gaze.
“That was completely unnecessary, my lord. I have no wish for lemonade, nor do I wish to sit down.”
Her frosty tone had no effect on the man gazing at her with unnerving intensity, except perhaps to widen his sardonic smile.
“You must think of your health, Miss Allendyle. I remember how swiftly you can be overcome with fainting spells.”
His tone was taunting, and Roma blushed as she realized he was referring to her behavior in the barn. Clearly it had rankled his pride to be outmaneuvered by a mere woman.
“I feel perfectly well, thank you.”
“And I think you look a bit pale. Come along, like a good girl. You wouldn’t want to create scene.”
She opened her mouth to inform him that she couldn’t care less, only to snap her lips closed when she noted the devilish glint in his eyes. No doubt his exalted position in Society would allow him to step well beyond the line of propriety with no more than a few raised brows, while she would be held up to condemning disgrace. A prospect that held little weight with her personal feelings, but at the moment she knew that she must think of her aunt and cousin. She couldn’t deliberately harm them even if it meant succumbing to this odious man’s manipulations.
“Very well, Lord Carlton,” she gritted out lowly. “Since you are so insistent, I have little choice but to accept your kind offer.”
He gave a low chuckle, reaching out to clasp her arm and draw her toward a small alcove that sported a loveseat and enough potted plants to ensure a discreet amount of privacy.
“Must you be so formal, Miss Allendyle?” he murmured, carefully placing her on the sofa before lowering his own disturbingly solid frame next to hers. “It is not as if we are complete strangers. In fact, I feel we are the most … intimate of acquaintances.”
Thoroughly flustered, not only by Lord Carlton’s deliberate taunts, but by the proximity of his very masculine form, Roma was hard pressed to meet his probing gaze with a steady composure.
“I had sincerely hoped you would be gentlemanly enough not to mention that unfortunate encounter, Lord Carlton.”
“Oh? Is it a secret then?”
“Of course it is. No one but Claude knows I was there that evening.”
“And me, of course,” he reminded in a low tone.
“I assume that you are deliberately attempting to embarrass me?”
“Not at all,” he retorted smoothly, quite unaffected by her icy demeanor. “I am simply delighted at the opportunity to become better acquainted. After you so rudely disappeared from the barn, I had resigned myself to the idea that I might never see you again.”
“I am sure you must have been devastated,” she retorted dryly. “As I recall, you considered me scandalously out of control and in need of more rigid supervision.”
“Ah yes.” His low laugh sent an odd flutter down the length of her spine. “At the time I was horrified at the thought you had placed yourself in such a dangerous position.” The vivid blue gaze abruptly lowered to her unfashionably high neckline. “How is your shoulder?”
The gold flecks in her eyes were dangerously pronounced. “Healing.”
“Good. Such delicate skin should not be so mistreated. You can not imagine how I longed to kiss it better.”
She gave a small gasp. “Lord Carlton …”
“Giles.”
“Lord Carlton,” she repeated firmly, ignoring the way he managed to make her feel that he had actually stroked her shivering skin. “I refuse to proceed with this ridiculous conversation. If you have nothing more interesting to discuss, then I suggest we sit here in silence.”
“Indeed? And what conversation would be more to your taste, dear Miss Allendyle? Lord Byron’s latest poem? Turner’s exhibition at the Royal Academy? Perhaps you prefer the more tantalizing rumors of Prinny’s disfavor of Brummell?”
“I prefer the latest trend in tilling land, my lord, but I possess little hope you could supply such practical information. Like most London gentlemen, you are no doubt more intrigued with the cut of your coat and the sheen of your Hessians.”
The prim words were specifically designed to strike at the arrogant man’s pride, but rather than the anger she had expected, Lord Carlton merely tipped back his dark head to laugh with rich enjoyment.
“Well said, Miss Allendyle. I am relieved to discover your current transformation hasn’t dulled your spirit.” The blue eyes narrowed. “You know, I have thought of you quite often since our last encounter. You are a most fascinating young woman.”
Roma had always taken great pride in her lack of feminine silliness. Unlike many of her contemporaries, she had never found pleasure in meaningless flattery or light flirtations. She had, in fact, found most men she encountered tedious, with their rigid expectations of how a young woman should conduct herself and of what mundane matters should occupy her mind.
In time she had considered herself thoroughly immune to masculine charm, but suddenly confronted by Lord Carlton’s persistent attention, she discovered herself succumbing to an unfamiliar sense of flustered unease.
“I can not imagine why,” she muttered, furiously wondering why it was taking Claude so long to return. Anyone would think he’d had to make the lemonade himself.
Lord Carlton studied her tense expression with languid ease. “Because I am curious about you, Miss Allendyle. You must admit that you are a most unusual young lady.”
“Not at all,” she instantly argued. “I am simply a mundane addition to this year’s selection of debutantes. If you were to circulate you would discover far more interesting women ready to entertain you with their superior wit and charm.”
“Ah, but I do not wish to be entertained by a bevy of insipid young debutantes,” he countered smoothly. “You will soon learn, Miss Allendyle, that I have little patience for these types of affairs. Debutantes, managing mamas, and dowagers breathing fire in the corner are not my idea of a delightful evening.”
She gave a sudden, triumphant smile as she rose swiftly to her feet.
“Why, Lord Carlton, you should have spoken sooner,” she cried, her tone dangerously innocent. “I would never dream of keeping you here when it is so obvious you wish to take your leave.”
“Not so quickly, Miss Allendyle.” He rose to join her, his eyes sparkling with appreciation at her swift attack.
“But why? I should think you would wish to move on to the type of affair you find more to your taste.”
“I was about to add that while I might find this gathering sadly flat, I am deeply relieved that Jack insisted we attend. Who knows how long you might have been in London without my being aware of your presence.”
“Yes … What a stroke of luck.” Her tone was singularly unenthusiastic.
He chuckled. “I fear you do not share my pleasure.”
“I have little interest in Society, my lord, and unfortunately I make a tedious companion. You would be far better served to seek a more amiable partner.”
“I am most qualified to determine which partner I prefer to seek, Miss Allendyle.” He stepped closer, his gaze narrowing as he caught sight of Claude determinedly making his way through the crowd despite Mr. Howe’s best attempt to distract his attention.
“We cannot converse here. I will call for you tomorrow afternoon, and we will go for a ride.”
Her eyes widened at his authoritative tone. “I am quite sure I will be far too busy, Lord Carlton.”
“I suggest you make time, Miss Allendyle.” His indulgent humor remained intact, but there was no mistaking the edge of warning in his voice. “I fully intend to discover your reasons for being at that cove. I can do so in the relative privacy of my curricle, or in the presence of your family. Whichever you prefer.”
“Is that a threat, my lord?”
“Most assuredly, Miss Allendyle.”
Roma frowned in disbelief. She had attributed Lord Carlton’s momentary interest in her to a means of enlivening a dull evening. Clearly he found her discomfort amusing. But she had never expected him to carry the joke to such extremes.
“Really, Lord Carlton, I think it is best if—”
“Ah, your escort has returned,” Lord Carlton interrupted her as Claude and Mr. Howe joined them. Then, before Roma could guess his intention, he reached out to capture her hand and draw it to his mouth for a brief, but utterly unnerving kiss. For a moment her startled gaze was held by the mesmerizing blue of his eyes; then before she could even begin to protest, he was stepping back to nod distantly at the puzzled Claude. “Welford, a pleasure to see you. Shall we move on, Jack?”
With exquisite grace, Lord Carlton moved away, the crowd melting aside as he made his unhurried exit. Roma watched his departure in a haze of confusing emotions, not the least of which was the odd tingling across the back of her hand.
Claude, however, was unaffected by the strange spell that held Roma motionless, and he abruptly turned to eye her with baffled expectation.
“What the devil was that about?”
With a tiny shake, Roma forced herself to thrust aside her ridiculous sense of unreality. At the moment she didn’t want to consider the disturbing encounter. Instead, she reached for the lemonade Claude still held in his hands.
“Do not inquire, Claude. Please, just do not inquire.”